


We Can Light a Match

by Hollyspacey



Series: We’ve Been Lonely Too Long [2]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bucky Barnes Feels, F/M, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-23 00:51:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7460238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hollyspacey/pseuds/Hollyspacey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky's take on the road trip from <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/6914584">Oh Lord, Oh Lord, What Have I Done</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	We Can Light a Match

**Author's Note:**

> It isn't 100% necessary to read [Oh Lord, Oh Lord, What Have I Done](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6914584) but this might make more sense. Continuing the theme of Civil Wars songs, this title comes from ‘Dust to Dust’ because I listened to it an unhealthy amount while writing this. Hope you all enjoy!!
> 
> As always, you can find me on the [Tumblr](http://hollyspacey.tumblr.com) :)

_Let me in the walls,_

_You've built around._

_We can light a match_

_And burn them down._

_Let me hold your hand_

_And dance 'round and 'round the flames_

_In front of us,_

_Dust to dust_

\--

After the bridge and the helicarrier and the explosions, after he pulled the man from the water, (his brain provides the words _Steve_ , _mission_ , _friend_.) After all that, Bucky doesn't know what to do with himself. His mind is a mess, a jumble of thoughts and ideas, all of them pushing forward, jockeying against each other to be remembered. 

He sees a boy, smaller than him but just as brave. He sees a man and a woman and a little girl with familiar eyes. (His brain says, _family_.) He sees explosions and men in suits like the one he’s wearing. Feels camaraderie with these unknown men. Sees a concrete ceiling above him as he remembers needles in his arms and straps across his body, then the rush of being free again. And, the boy is there, too. The tiny one, suddenly not so tiny any more. 

He sees a blast, and then the train and the man reaching for him getting smaller as he falls towards the snowy ground. This is all before, of course. The memories that come after are murkier, and more painful, and he doesn’t like to spend too much time thinking of them.

After he leaves the man ( _Steve_ ) on the side of the riverbank, he hides. Finds a safe place to hunker down and just waits. He is still confused, but he knows enough to get out of sight. He walks the city at night, watches for a sign, and one night turns a corner and sees it. 

A literal sign, in this case. He sees the man from before. From the bridge, and the helicarrier, and the riverbank, from his memories. The man isn’t actually there, but his face is on a poster at a bus stop. Bucky casually reads the ad, studies the man's face and makes a plan for the first time in a long time. 

The next morning, as soon as soon as the doors open, Bucky is there at the museum. He is covered up, tries to be unrecognizable, but watches the crowd like a hawk anyway. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to stop looking over his shoulder. 

A long hallway opens up to a room covered in pictures and videos. In front of him is a huge display, a wall of mannequins, each wearing a suit. There is a picture above them, and there he sees the man. More importantly, he sees himself. The face that he sees in shop windows and in bathroom mirrors. He stares for a moment before pushing forward to stand at the mannequin. The suit looks familiar and Bucky feels something rush through him (his brain says, _pride_.) 

Walking further into the exhibit, he hears a name, the name he now knows is his own (not asset, or _Soldat_ , or Sergeant), but the name Bucky Barnes. He turns a corner and sees a giant display, his own face looking back at him. 

The writing on the display confirms the thoughts he had racing through his head. All of the memories of growing up in a city that looked so different from any he has seen lately, the feeling that he was missing a lot of time, the little boy that got big and seemed to be in all of his memories. 

The museum makes up his mind for him. He has so many questions and so few answers and he doesn’t know if he’s ready to see the man any time soon, but he knows that there is a place to go now. A place that he used to call home, and maybe it can untangle his mind to be there again. 

He leaves the museum and starts walking. Walks along highways and through small towns. Sleeps when he can, curled up in trees, or in abandoned houses along the way. Tries not to be seen, to be noticeable. Steals what he has to, pushes the guilt back, it’s not the worst thing he’s ever done. 

Whenever he snatches up a map or bottle of water his brain flashes with an image of a feisty woman, (his brain says, _Mama_ ) yelling at a young version of him about taking a piece of penny candy from the corner store. He constantly feels the urge to go back to return the things and apologize. But he has to keep going, so he walks. 

Walks until he sees a familiar skyline in front of him. Soon, the maps become useless. He starts walking down streets, making turns without even thinking about them. Most things don’t look familiar, but some do. His head turns to look down alleys, expecting to see the man when he was small, expecting to have to break up a fight. He walks for days around Brooklyn, cataloguing everythings that looks familiar. Eventually, he expands his circle to all of New York City. 

Things are so different, but somehow exactly the same. Louder, perhaps. More crowded. Brighter, for sure. But it’s still New York. He reads enough newspapers and catches enough news broadcasts to know about the man, about Steve. But he still has questions, and finds himself circling Midtown more than he’d like to admit.

He stands under the giant skyscraper and looks up. _Avengers Tower_ , it says. The building stretches up above him and he wonders if the man is inside at this very moment. Wonders how the man got from that tiny shack in Brooklyn to this steel behemoth. 

He forces himself to walk away, to become just another faceless body amongst all the others, but something keeps him there at the tower. The blocks that surround the building become his home. People toss him change every once in awhile, but no one bothers him. He knows a move must be made, but he doesn’t know what it is. 

He starts to study the tower, to watch who comes in and out. Around eight every morning, there is a rush of people going in, and at around five every afternoon, those same people leave again. Those are the ones that work there, and he doesn’t pay them much attention. The ones that go in and out at other hours do, however. He wants to know about the people who live there. The ones they call the Avengers. He recognizes them from newspapers and the memorial commemorating something called the Battle of New York. 

Steve is only there sometimes, and Bucky has a feeling he’s looking for him. One day, he’ll look up and recognize the man trying not to be seen, but for now his gaze is far away, set in some distant place. He must not even think to be looking for him in New York. Bucky ignores the guilt that says he is wasting the man’s time. He just can’t make himself go to him yet, he isn’t ready. So, he watches the man’s friends.

The girl is a surprise. She is short, doesn’t have the muscles or elegant demeanor the others that live there do. Doesn’t look the slightest bit dangerous with her bright scarves and loud laugh. Sometimes she leaves with other people. The large, blonde man that he recognizes as Thor and another lady even smaller than her. Sometimes she’s with Hawkeye, the archer. Sometimes she’s with the redhead. Her, he recognizes. He’s pretty sure he shot her, he thinks more than once. 

He can feel it happening, but he can’t stop it. She fascinates him. He sees her leave alone sometimes and he finds himself concerned. Here he is watching them all and no one has noticed. Anyone could be watching them, someone even worse than him. Certainly someone with more sinister intentions. If he follows her on occasion, it’s nothing more than making sure she is safe while out on her own. 

Then, one day a car appears parked outside of the tower. A hideous purple thing with a big arrow on the front. The girl comes outside with a bag and heads towards it. He doesn’t bother hiding or pretending he’s not watching her. He’s curious. She puts her stuff in the car, and for the first time, acknowledges him. “Hey, how’s it going?” 

There is a brief moment where he panics, he never meant to talk to her, to get her attention, but he finds himself responding anyway, the words spilling from his mouth as he makes small talk in a way he suspects he hasn’t in a very, very long time. So, when she asks if he needs a ride somewhere, he responds with the only place that comes to mind. Brooklyn. She tells him her name is Darcy and the name rolls around in his head for the rest of the afternoon. 

They drive and drive, eventually leaving Brooklyn in the rearview mirror. Bucky isn’t sure why she asked him to come with her, but he is glad. He probably needs to be in the city, but something is urging him to go with her anyway. 

She sits in the seat beside him and just talks. Tells him about her childhood and her college years and all about her friend Jane. Then, stories about Thor and the others. Including Steve. 

Bucky always knows when she’s talking about Steve. As his memories start sorting themselves out, he gets a clearer picture of exactly who Steve is. The reckless, brave, terribly loyal person who once meant the world to him. He can’t stop himself from asking questions about him, but Darcy doesn’t seem to mind answering them. She doesn’t mind talking at all. It’s like she knows somehow that he isn’t able to make the kind of conversation that he should, and she fills in his silences with stories about prank wars and team dinners.

There are so few things in this new life that don't pull at his mind or hurt or burn but she is one of them. She's given him a kindness that be can't ever repaid. He makes himself a promise that he will not hurt her, he'll _never_ hurt her, won't let anyone else hurt her either. Will accompany her on her road trip, make sure gets home safely and then he will leave her alone. 

She’s good to him, though. She teaches him things that he has forgotten. That he likes pizza, but loves breakfast food best of all. Reminds him that he has a sweet tooth. That he enjoys music, even though some of the stuff she plays grates at his eardrums. That he likes to laugh, he thinks he probably did it a lot once upon a time. He remembers that he always did have a thing for brunettes, although that’s the thought that he forces himself to forget again and again.

He sees her watching him sometimes. He watches her too, but he’s better at not being caught. Being around her makes him remember a time when things were easier, when he wasn’t afraid to do what he wanted. Being around her makes him wish that things were different, that they truly were just two people without pasts who somehow ended up in a car together.

The storm turns out to be a blessing in disguise. It is their third day in the same hotel room, rain pouring outside with the low rumble of thunder in the distance. He is staring up at the ceiling, thinking about the girl in the bed across the room. Thinking about her eyes on him like a brand. Thinking about all of the things he would like very much to do to her and trying to remind himself why they are such a bad idea. 

Her gaze is heavy on him and it sends a rush through his body, (his brain says, _lust_.) He knows he should turn over and face away from her, perhaps pretend to be asleep. The storm has somehow magnified every tiny, charged moment that they have had between them. Makes him think positively scandalous things about her. 

Against what is probably his better judgement, Bucky tilts his head to meet her eyes and he sees something that tells him that she was thinking about those things, too. Something in him shifts and he feels himself getting out of bed and moving until he is in hers, climbing over her body. She hasn’t pushed him away or done anything but stare at him with those darkened eyes, so he doesn’t hesitate as he put his lips on hers, and a feeling of rightness sweeps through his body. 

At this particular moment, his past doesn’t matter, his body count, the years spent frozen, the rocky landscape that is his mind. None of it matters, he is just a man with a beautiful woman. 

That is, until her small hand slips beneath his hoodie. It’s all well and good to pretend like he’s just another man, but he has a very real, very physical reminder of who he is, and she is suddenly only inches away from it. He holds her hand in his to tell her the truth, give her an out, _possibly scare her away_ , he thinks. But then she looks into his eyes, and turns his world upside down. 

Says his name in a tone that tells him she knows exactly who he is, and she does not care. Gives him the greatest gift possible. Kisses him with those perfect lips until he has trouble breathing. Her body, so soft and yielding beneath his, hands stroking his skin. She settles under him, letting him fit perfectly between her thighs, and urges him on, urges him inside of her. Says his name in that soft, breathy voice of hers and lets him escape for a little bit. 

Afterwards, he pulls her close, overwhelmed by her and by how good her body feels tucked against his (his brain chooses the word, _happy_ ). His mind can’t rest though. 

“How long have you known?” 

He doesn’t know what to expect, he can’t pinpoint any moment where she might have realized what kind of monster was at her side, never for a moment had she treated him any differently than she would anyone else. She doesn’t fear him, doesn’t cower from him, has willingly been spending time with him, has invited him into her life and her bed, and he honestly doesn’t understand it. 

But she just curls up tighter against him and says that she’d known for weeks, that he hadn’t been able to hide from her. Says she never felt the need to run, then or now. Sparks something in him that he never even knew was missing, (the word, _hope_ , comes to mind). 

She falls asleep after awhile, her breath blowing softly across his chest as she exhales, and he watches her. The curve of her shoulder, the disheveled hair covering the pillow, those lips that he thinks he could grow to love pretty easily. The delicate look on her face when she is completely at peace. It scares him and makes him all warm inside at the same time. More than anything, it shocks him. This was not something he had ever expected. 

When she wakes up the next morning, he searches her face for regret, but doesn’t see a trace of it. Just a small grin that gets bigger as she pulls off the scratchy hotel sheet and crawls on top of him, leaning down to capture his lips with hers as their bodies press against each other. 

She continues to teach him new things, that he likes sci-fi movies. That he sleeps better with someone beside him. That he’s pretty good at blackjack, especially when it’s of the strip variety. That he is very good at doing that thing with his tongue, and that he very much likes the noises she makes when he does it. 

Of course, he knows it can’t last forever. He’s already had weeks with her and somehow that’s more than he ever expected. She has to go back soon and Bucky doesn’t know what that will mean for them. The weeks become days, and soon it is time to decide. Darcy doesn’t push, or plead, and Bucky knows he would be powerless if she did. She just looked up from her dinner one night and asked him if he’d like to come back with her. Made sure that he knew he had a place there at the Tower, that they would be glad to have him. Pushed her food around with her fork and spoke in a soft voice, “You don’t have to. I know it’s not easy. But I would like very much to have you there. I don’t want this to be over.” 

His heart ached at the thought. He didn’t want that either. Which was how he found himself headed back to New York, down those sometimes-familiar streets, until they were parked beside the Tower again, Darcy smiling softly beside him. The thought came to him that his life was about to become even more complicated. Steve wouldn’t be the same person, would have to be constantly reminded that Bucky wasn’t the same person. And he knew that he would have mountains of baggage coming with him, but looking at the genuinely happy girl beside him made him think that none of that really mattered.

-Six Months Later-

Bucky thinks sometimes about how things were in the beginning, pre-Tower days. The nights spent in crummy hotel rooms, meals out of Styrofoam containers or on cheap plastic plates sitting on sticky tables, the uncertainty and bohemian novelty of it all. Learning about Darcy. Learning about himself. Finding a place in a world that probably didn’t want him. Those days when he started living again.

But this life is good, too. He wouldn't trade in those greasy meals in dusty diners for anything, but the mornings when they wake up early and stand side by side at the stove while Darcy flips her special chocolate chip pancakes, those are good too. And sure, he has fond memories of the two of them in Darcy’s beat up, old car, hurtling down the road toward some unknown location, but he equally loves the hours they spend beside each other on the couch while she makes him watch terrible reality tv. 

The way their limbs end up tangled together while they sit. The way she touches him without fear, but rather with something like awe. The way he is allowed to touch her. The people she brought into his life and how they allowed him in, simply because he had her approval. 

When he dragged a waterlogged Steve up on that D.C. riverbank and walked away all those months ago, he never in a million years would have imagined the great things that were coming for him, and he knows that he has Darcy Lewis to thank for a lot of them.


End file.
